


Wedding Planning

by Dark_and_night



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Crying, Other, Self Loathing, Stress, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: Wedding planning has pushed you over the edge, but at least you're marrying a psychiatrist.
Relationships: Hannibal Lecter/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 129





	Wedding Planning

You were curled up next to the couch. Not on it, next to it. You had made a beeline for the couch but your body just kind of gave out right before you could make the last foot. Your head was tucked up against the bottom of the arm rest, and both the arm rest and your shirt were wet from your tears.

Knees hugged to your chest, your well of tears not seeming to have a bottom, you just sat there crying. There wasn’t so much as the TV on or music playing, though usually one of those two things would be blaring so you wouldn’t have to be alone with your own thoughts. But this time, all the ambiance you had was the sound of the air conditioner. 

Whimpers came from you, your throat straining from the high-pitched sounds you were making. What finally stopped the sounds you were making was the sound of the door opening. 

Frantically, you wiped off your eyes, tried to regulate your breathing, and pushed yourself to standing, attempting to will your eyes to not be red, and your nose to stop running. Which obviously didn’t work as Hannibal walked into the room.

His brow furrowed at the sight of you. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, a shuddering breath escaping you as you attempted to compose yourself. “Nothing.”

Hannibal walked over, resting his hand on your arm. “Love, you couldn’t lie to me even if I hadn’t caught you crying. What happened?”

Taking another deep breath, you wrung your hands. “Wedding planning.”

“Ah.” He pulled you to him, running his hands up and down your back. “What happened today?”

“Everyone is mad at me and I hate myself and I didn’t even want a wedding!” You said all at once, burying your face in his shoulder, everything you had pitifully attempted to hide coming to the forefront as the dam of information burst. “I didn’t want this, I didn’t want any of it, I wanted to get married at a courthouse and not have a party and not have to deal with everyone! I’ve never met anyone who liked their wedding or had fun planning it, I hate this I hate this I hate this!”

Your rant turned into childish repetition, tears coming forth with new vigor and wetting Hannibal’s jacket. He slipped it off, uncharacteristically tossing it onto the couch behind you before hugging you tight once again, patiently waiting for you to calm down enough to speak once again.

In your upset state, your brain started trying to convince you that he could hate this side of you. That he was finally seeing the one part of him that you had somewhat managed to hide, that he was going to hate you for crying, getting so worked up over what was probably the most minimal amount of stress a person could be under. 

You started to fear that you had somehow tricked the genius into loving a fake version of you, and that this breakdown would be the last thing Hannibal needed to connect the dots and realize that you were below him. 

As you sobbed, your body heat rose, making you sweat out even more fluids as you sobbed. Hannibal could feel the heat coming from you, making him uncomfortably hot as well, but he remained silent and still for you.

The thoughts made you want to cry harder, but you bit your lip, pulling away from him, forcing yourself to put up a front of calmness.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, wiping your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just-. I’m sorry. I-I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry.” Your breathing grew faster, your voice rising with each word until your voice came out in a high pitched squeak. “I got your jacket wet!”

“I’m not worried about the jacket.” He wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m so stupid.” You whimpered, putting your hands over his, nuzzling your face into his palms. “I’m so stupid, and I can’t do anything right. I’m the stupidest, fattest, ugliest grandchild with the beadiest eyes and the biggest nose and I’ve accomplished the least and everyone hates me and they’re right to think that!”

Hannibal lead you to the couch, pulling you into his lap. “I thought we discussed your self-image.”

“That doesn’t fix anything!” You wiped your eyes, speaking as fast as you could before you started bawling again. “Grandma on my dad’s side is mad I didn’t invite my stupid cousins; even thought I only see them twice a year. And mom is mad that I asked my best friend to get ordained and marry us. And if my stupid cousins come, then they’ll bring their stupid husbands and their stupid kids, and I didn’t want kids at the wedding, but I invited them on facebook and they both RSVP-ed. And mom called my best friend like r-r-really mean things because she wants me to fold and get some uncle of her cousin I’ve never heard of to marry us instead.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Hannibal said softly, pulling you to him again. “Stop for a moment. Breathe for me.”

You sucked in a breath, making him chuckle.

“A long breath.” He elaborated.

You tried again, but the second breath sounded shorter than he first one. He pulled you to him, rubbing your arms. 

“Why did you start all of this by calling yourself ugly and stupid?” He asked, his professional voice slipping through. 

Steadying yourself, you took one last breath, a longer, smoother one this time. “I don’t know. I’m upset and I’m taking it out on myself.”

“Good, at least you’re aware. Now, why are you mad at yourself and not at everyone else?” Hannibal pressed.

“Because I am all those things.” You crossed your arms, looking away from the look you knew he was giving you. “There are people out there who work two jobs, take care of kids, are going through so much, and they’re so strong through all of it. And then look at me. Literally all I have to do is plan a wedding. Just that! And I can’t even plan one wedding without losing it.”

Hannibal shook his head. “That is completely unrelated to calling yourself ugly and stupid.”

“I don’t know!” You cried, exasperated. “I just wanted to get married in a courthouse, but everyone said I’d be a horrible human being for not having a real wedding for the stupid family so they can witness it. Because old relatives keep getting older and I’m supposed to have a wedding that they attended so that after they’re gone we’ll remember they were there.

“And everyone hates everyone else’s ideas, and they tell me it’s my wedding and I should do what I want. But then they get upset when I don’t do what they want! It’s too much, I didn’t want any of this, I never wanted anything that everyone wanted me to do, but I keep doing it anyway because I want them to be proud of me. But they never are. I do what they want so they’ll leave me alone. But they never do.” You knew you were only barely making sense, but you weren’t saying anything that wasn’t true to you. In your tired, fried brain, all of these things were connected, and it made sense to bring them up together.

“If it never works, why do you keep doing it?” Hannibal put his hands together, even more of his professional persona showing through. 

“Because every time, I think that maybe this will be the time I do it right. That this will finally be the time I do what they want and everyone will be happy and leave me alone.” You shrugged helplessly. 

Hannibal pursed his lips, looking you up and down for a moment. “Let’s get married right now.” He finally said.

You snorted, wiping your eyes. “I wish.”

“I’m being serious. It’s only one in the afternoon. Everything should be open that needs being open. Let’s get married right now.” He smiled slightly. “Save you the headache.”

“B-but everyone will be mad at me.” You stammered, already feeling nervous just from the suggestion.

“Aren’t they already mad at you?” He cupped your cheek. “Even though you tried to do things their way?”

“W-well I’m probably faking it, or exaggerating, and I’m sure it’s not as bad as I’m making it sound-.” You tried.

Hannibal held up his hand, cutting you off. “I caught you crying in a silent house. It’s real to you.”

You looked down at your hands. “But I’ll be a horrible person if I do that.”

“You’re with me.” He chuckled. “No one is worse than me.”

Breathing slowly, you looked up at him. “Do you really not mind getting married at the courthouse?”

“I’ve wanted to be married to you for a long time.” Hannibal said softly, scooting closer to you. “Let’s get married today.”

A smile slowly spread across your face. “You mean it?”

He stood, pulling you up with him. “Go put on your favorite outfit. Let’s get married.”

You flung your hands around his neck, kissing him passionately. Hannibal pulled you close and kissed you back, squeezing you tightly.

Pulling back, you smiled, wiping the last of your tears off your eyes. “I’m going to go get ready!” You scurried out of the room, ready to get your favorite outfit from your closet, ready to be married the way you wanted to be.


End file.
